Laurel McKee

by Countess of Scandal

  “We hardly had a choice.” Eliza glanced back over her shoulder to see their rebel escorts scrambling up the hill on foot. They could not yet have seen the walls and the soldiers, but they looked grimly determined to find a fight, one way or another. Perhaps that had been their intention to come to Rossmore in the first place, not to “meet up with friends.”

  But it was all too late. They came over the crest of the hill, glimpsing the armies at last—and the soldiers saw them, too. With a blast of warning trumpets and a great shout, they poured out of the gates and the guardhouse, charging over the ditch and up the slope of the hill. The rebels, taken by surprise, charged back with a gathering roar.

  Will pushed Eliza off the cart seat. “Run, now!” he yelled, reaching for his gun. The horses whinnied in panic, pawing the dust as if they, too, wanted to flee.

  Katherine jumped down, pulling Anna and Caroline with her. Will took shelter behind the cart, bracing his forearm on the splintered wood rail to focus his pistol. He did not yet fire, though, just watched to see which way the action would go, covering their retreat even as he placed himself in the forefront of battle.

  Eliza longed with all her might to stay there with him, to fight with him, but she had to think of her family and get them away first. There was no place to take cover on the bare hillside, no sheltering woods.

  “We have to hide in the barley fields we passed earlier,” she cried, urging them toward the unharvested stretch of dried grain in the distance. This might give them some disguise. They took off running, but it was too far, too late. The two forces clashed in a deafening roar of shouts and screams, the metallic ring of pikes and swords, the blast of guns firing. People fell and were crushed underfoot, but she could not tell who. It was massive confusion, smoke and dust and noise.

  They were surrounded and could not run.

  “Get down!” Eliza shouted over the chaos, pushing her mother under the cart. The three women crawled beneath its meager shelter, Katherine covering her daughters with her own slender body.

  Eliza drew out her pistol, ducking low as she ran back to Will’s side. He didn’t even glance at her, but, just as they had at the bridge, they automatically moved in unison. He handed her his spent gun, taking hers as she reloaded.

  Much to her surprise, her hands were steady, her mind clear. The taut worry of waiting faded with danger and purpose. She had to survive, to save Will and her family—and then find a way to send word to the United leaders about the new fortifications at Rossmore.

  If she could stay alive. That was the crucial point at the moment. Surrounded by the roar of bullets and a thick, acrid cloud of smoke, survival was a bit doubtful.

  “You have to tell them who you are!” she shouted to Will.

  He exchanged guns with her again. Their shot was getting perilously low. “It hardly seems the time to say, ‘Wait a moment, I’m a British officer!’ ”

  “After, then.”

  “We have to make sure there is an after.”

  One of the rebels, the one infatuated with Anna, suddenly lurched out of the smoky fog, his face half torn away. He collapsed, dead, just beyond the cart, and Caroline cried out. Will knelt and snatched up the gun from his dead hand, standing and firing again in one smooth motion.

  Distracted, Eliza did not see the soldier come around behind them until she heard Anna scream. She whirled around to see that a burly man in a red coat, his face blackened by the smoke like a devil, had caught Anna by the leg, dragging her out from under the cart. She kicked and flailed, Katherine and Caroline screaming, but to no avail. It was obvious that battle lust was upon him, giving him a superhuman strength, and he shoved the women away without breaking his hold on Anna. Katherine fell hard against the wheel, striking her head.

  The rebel’s woman suddenly leaped on Will’s back, knocking him to the ground. Her blade arced down toward him, but he rolled over and held her off. It was obvious he was quite distracted, even as he won control of the skirmish. Eliza whirled back toward Anna, leveling her gun at the attacker even as she prayed the overheated firearm wouldn’t explode in her hand.

  The soldier had Anna pinned to the dirt, ripping at her skirt until her leg was completely bare as she screamed and writhed. She flailed around so much, Eliza could not get a clear shot without the risk of killing her sister instead.

  It felt like terrifying hours passed, but surely it was only seconds. Anna blindly grabbed a dagger from the man’s belt, a swift move he didn’t even notice as he loosened his breeches and tried to drive himself into her. She stabbed at him wildly, until at last she sank the blade deep into his shoulder.

  He reared up with a shout, a movement that gave Anna the leverage to pull the dagger free and plunge it in again, three stabs to his chest. He collapsed on top of her, his blood pouring out onto her torn dress, her body.

  “Get him off! Get him off!” she screamed hysterically. Eliza leaped forward to grab the man’s thick arm, tugging at it ineffectually. He was enormously heavy.

  Katherine, who had a large bruise on her forehead from falling against the wheel, snatched up his other arm, and together they finally pushed him aside. Anna lay on the ground, her legs sprawled, her gown bloodstained as she stared at them with wild eyes. She still clutched the dagger.

  If the man wasn’t already dead, Eliza would have happily killed and scalped him herself. She had never hated anyone more in her life.

  “Anna, darling, it’s done,” Katherine murmured softly, leaning over her daughter. “He is dead; he can’t hurt you now. Can you give me the dagger?”

  Anna shook her head frantically. Behind them, the cacophony of battle was fading. Soon the fighting would cease, and the soldiers would take stock. They could not find Anna with the bloody knife, the dead redcoat. They couldn’t find her at all. Surely they would kill her in the blind fury of war—but first they would finish what the dastardly dead man started.

  “Anna, please, give it to me,” Katherine coaxed. But Anna was sunk too deep in terror.

  Caroline crawled from under the cart, kneeling down by her sister. Calmly, she reached out and smacked Anna across the cheek. “Give Mama the knife. He can’t hurt us now, thanks to you, but the others can if we don’t get away now.”

  Something in Caroline’s brisk voice got to Anna, breaking through the haze of fear. She dropped the knife as if burned and leaped to her feet. She caught a glimpse of her bloodstained hand, but Caroline grabbed it, holding on to her tightly.

  “Forget him now, Anna,” Caroline said firmly. “He was an animal who deserved to die. We have to try and get away.”

  Eliza glanced back at Will.

  “Yes, go now, Eliza!” he shouted. “I’ll cover your retreat.”

  “Will, come with us!”

  “I can’t, not yet. Don’t worry—I’m an officer, remember? Go!”

  Eliza nodded, trying desperately to tell him with one last look what she could never say. I love you. Stay alive. Come back to me.

  She grabbed Anna’s arm, running with her family as fast as she could away from the waning battle. They didn’t stop until they had climbed over the crumbling wall into that barley field, burrowing into the sun-scented earth below the swaying, dried-out stalks.

  She could still hear the fighting, but it was muffled, muted, like in a nightmare. She held on to her sisters, keeping them down as the hot sun beat on their heads. The smell of powder, smoke, and blood was thick in her throat.

  “I murdered someone,” Anna whispered, as if coming to some sudden, horrifying, life-changing realization.

  Eliza couldn’t bear that pain in her sister’s voice. She never wanted this, not for lighthearted, sweet Anna. She raised her head to look into Anna’s cloudy blue eyes. “You had no choice at all. You had to save yourself, save all of us. You were very brave.”

  “When I felt his hand on my… I was so angry. I couldn’t see anything. I just had to…”

  “Hush now,” Katherine murmured. “Eliza is right—there was noth
ing else you could do. It’s all right now; you will see.”

  The four of them lay there in the dirt for what seemed like a very long time to Eliza. The sun started to sink again, and the air grew mercifully cooler. A silence settled over the land.

  But where was Will? Had he been killed or captured?

  Eliza’s worry threatened to tip over into panic, but there was no time for wild fear or desperate thoughts. Anna had done what she had to do; Eliza had to do the same.

  “We need to leave as soon as it gets dark,” she said quietly. “We can start toward Dublin.”

  “I need a fresh gown,” Anna said. “I can hardly wander about the countryside looking like Lady Macbeth.”

  Eliza glanced down at her to see that her sister was still pale, but her eyes were clearer, her shaking ceased. That was a good sign, surely.

  “I have clothes in the cart,” Katherine said. “But…”

  But who knew where the cart—and Will—were now.

  “I will go look soon,” said Eliza. But in the end, she didn’t have to go searching. Will found them.

  The sunset had turned the barley around them pink and orange when they heard soft footsteps in the dirt. Eliza sat up straight, drawing out her gun again in case it was the soldiers come to find them. Then she saw the gleam of his golden hair, and her arm fell back to her side. Her heart pounded in sudden relief.

  He looked dirty and tired, his coat gone and his shirt torn, but he was alive. Alive and whole and beautiful.

  In front of her family, Eliza jumped up and ran to him, throwing her arms around him to hold him close. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply of the warm, precious life of him.

  His arms came around her, too, just holding her there for a long moment.

  “We were going to leave as soon as it’s dark,” she said, drawing back to examine his shoulder beneath the blood-streaked shirt. The stitches held firm.

  “I think we should go now,” he answered. “I left the cart on the road. One of the horses is dead, but the other should get us as far as Dublin.”

  “And the soldiers?”

  He gave her a bitter little smile. “I did as you said—I told them who I am. I told them I had been on my way to rejoin my regiment when I was captured by the rebels. The Rossmore soldiers heroically rescued me.”

  “And they believed you?”

  “I can be persuasive enough when I try.”

  Oh, Eliza knew that all too well.

  “But they should not see you or your family here, especially Anna,” he said. “We need to leave now.”

  Eliza nodded. On to Dublin—and whatever they might find there.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Halt! Let me see your pass.”

  The soldier strode out of the guardhouse, his weapon at the ready as Will drew up the cart. They had reached Dublin at last, all of them in one piece. Sanctuary was just beyond those walls. Eliza swept an exhausted, longing glance over their dark stone ramparts, at the curious faces that stared down at them, and she felt the burn of irritation that anyone would block them now.

  She was tired to her very core, dirty and hungry, and worried about her mother and sisters. Anna had said scarcely a word since the battle in the woods, just staring off into the distance. They needed food and sleep, not guards leveling guns at them and demanding passes!

  Her shoulders stiffened, but before she could say anything, Will laid a warning hand on her arm. He looked just as tired as the rest of them, his eyes lined with purple shadows, but he sat up military-straight and swept the cap from his head to focus the full force of his bright blue gaze on the man.

  “I am Major William Denton,” Will said sternly, drawing a paper from inside his coat. They must have given it to him in Rossmore, for the rest of them certainly had no passes. “And I am escorting the Countess of Killinan and her daughters to safety. They are most eager to reach home.”

  The guard hesitated, his glance sweeping over Katherine’s dignified mien, Anna’s pale, pretty face. He gave the papers a quick glance. “I’m sure that’s all in order, Major. We’ve had many families fleeing into Dublin these last days. But we have to make sure they aren’t the rebels. Hard to tell now.”

  Will gave him a terse nod, urging the exhausted horse forward. Eliza leaned against his shoulder, suddenly aware of just how very tense she had been. She had been balanced on a sharp edge of fear ever since they left Killinan, never entirely sure they would reach Dublin at all. Even now, as they rolled slowly along the familiar streets, she could hardly believe it.

  Those streets, usually so crowded and bustling at that time of day, were silent and almost deserted, the heat shining on the cobblestones and the blank windows. Houses were shuttered, many with doors draped in black mourning; shops were shut. But there was the constant echo of marching patrols in the distance.

  “I’m glad to see Dublin is so well guarded,” she said wryly.

  Will gave a humorless laugh, urging the horse to go marginally faster. “You can’t imitate such military bearing as mine, Eliza. It is entirely bred in the bone.”

  “You’re teasing me,” she said uncertainly.

  “Just a bit, my dear.” He looked around at the silent dwellings. “This place needs a bit of joking. But the signature of the commander at Rossmore seems to be an influential one.”

  At last they turned down Henrietta Street, rolling to a halt before her own front steps. The marble was unswept, and the curtains were drawn over the windows. “I would say it definitely needs some humor, among many other things.”

  Will swung down from the cart, reaching up to help Eliza to the pavement as her mother and sisters climbed out of the back. Anna leaned on Katherine, her mother’s arm going around her waist to hold her upright.

  And Eliza held on to Will for a moment, reluctant to let him go. It was as if she could feel him slipping away from her, slowly but inexorably. Slipping back into Major Denton as the city closed in around them.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, “for bringing us back here.”

  He briefly pressed a kiss to her temple, chuckling. “I think it’s entirely due to chance that we’re here at all.”

  “Oh no. If it was up to chance, we would all be dead long since.”

  He let her go, turning to take Katherine’s medicine case from the cart as Eliza made her way up the steps and through the unlocked front door. Much to her surprise, the vast, drafty place looked just the same as when she left. Had she really been gone only a few weeks? She felt like an entirely different woman than the one who departed here.

  “Oh, my lady! You’ve returned!”

  As she dragged off her cap, Eliza looked up to find Mary running down the staircase.

  “I am returned, Mary,” she answered, turning to take the valises from Will as he stepped into the house. He watched her in solemn silence, that brief flash of humor vanished. “And I’ve brought my mother and sisters and Major Denton with me, as you can see. I hope there is someone still here to make up guest chambers for everyone?”

  “And a bath,” Katherine added, her arms around her weary, drooping daughters. “I feel like I’m covered in acres of dust!”

  “Of course, my lady,” Mary said. She stared at their party with round eyes, as if astounded and scared by their sudden appearance. “Most of the servants are still here.”

  “Indeed?” said Eliza. “I thought we would find the place deserted, as most of Dublin seems to be.”

  “Some people have gone, my lady,” Mary said. “But mostly everyone just stays inside, waiting for news.”

  “Is there any news to be had?” Eliza asked.

  Mary glanced nervously at Will. “Not much, my lady. They say ten thousand men are on their way from England, but no one knows for sure.”

  “Well, whatever news there may or may not be,” Katherine said, “we need sleep and food. I’ll just take the girls upstairs if you will send a bath to us, Mary.”

  “Of course, Lady Killinan.
At once,” Mary said, bobbing a hasty curtsy. She looked to Eliza, her eyes wide and pleading, as if she had some secret to impart.

  “I’ll send for the maids, Mama,” Eliza said. “You take the girls upstairs.” As Katherine led Anna and Caroline up to their chambers, Eliza glanced at Will. He watched her carefully, as if he expected—or suspected—something. She smiled at him. “You go upstairs, too, Will. I know you’re exhausted, and I need to speak to the servants for a moment.”

  “I should leave,” he said, gesturing toward the front door.

  “Where will you go?” she answered, studying him across that vast marble silence. How very strange it was to be here with him again, in the very house where their affair began. How long ago that seemed. “No respectable landlady would take you in looking like that!”

  A smile flickered over his lips. “Perhaps you are right. I do somewhat resemble a scarecrow.”

  “And you’re about to fall asleep where you stand. Go on—I will be up soon.”

  He nodded and slowly made his way up the stairs, his boots clicking on the cold marble. Eliza waited until she heard her bedroom door close above before she turned back to Mary.

  “All right, then, Mary,” she said briskly. “Tell me what is happening.”

  “I… oh, my lady! I did something terrible while you were away.”

  “Something terrible? Did you steal the silver?”

  “Worse.”

  Eliza was tired, and she feared her patience was in rather short supply at the moment. She crossed her arms and said, “You had best tell me, then. It can’t possibly be any worse than anything else I’ve seen in the last few days.”

  Rather than answer, Mary turned and led Eliza through the green baize servants’ door and down the narrow stairs. There was the murmur of voices from the servants’ dining room, but Mary slipped past them and went even farther down, through the wine cellar. The doorway to the secret room was unsealed, barrels rolled in front of it for concealment.

  “I’m so sorry, my lady,” Mary whispered, tears thick in her voice. “I just didn’t know what else to do.”